


Soldier On

by tresa_cho



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s08e23 Sacrifice, Fallen Angels, Fallen Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresa_cho/pseuds/tresa_cho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dean... Dean...”</p><p>Dean whipped his head up. He scrambled to his feet, untangling his fingers from Sammy's hair. Cas stumbled out of the forest and braced a hand against a tree as he fell to his knees. Dean could barely get his legs under him to sprint and he slammed into Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soldier On

**Author's Note:**

> My addition to the codas for the end of SPN. Unbetad.

“Dean... Dean...”

Dean whipped his head up. He scrambled to his feet, untangling his fingers from Sammy's hair. Cas stumbled out of the forest and braced a hand against a tree as he fell to his knees. Dean could barely get his legs under him to sprint and he slammed into Cas.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean said harshly, grabbing him close. Cas shook like a leaf against him, his chest stuttering. Dean drew back, gripping Cas' shoulders. “Breathe, Cas. Your Grace- Breathe, damn it.”

Cas gasped, inhaling sharply and choking on it. His eyes were wide against a pale face, and Dean could see tear streaks on his cheeks, glistening in the light of the fireballs in the sky.

“Hey, okay. You're okay,” Dean murmured, digging his fingers into Cas' jacket. “I've gotcha-”

“I did that-” Cas coughed out. “I did that- All of them- Falling stars-”

“Okay, we'll fix it buddy, I need you to calm down,” Dean said. “I need help with Sammy-”

“Falling stars. They're falling stars,” Cas said, tipping his head back. He stared, unseeing, at the sky, and went completely limp in Dean's arms. “I did that...”

“Whoa. Okay.” Dean struggled to keep hold of him, and hitched and arm under Cas' knees. “You're in shock. Stay with me, Cas. Cas!”

He was there, physically, but he was clearly out of his mind. Dean pushed himself up from the ground, Cas in his arms. Stumbling heavily back to the Impala, Dean managed to finagle Cas into the backseat. Sammy helped by pushing Cas' legs into the car from where he had collapsed.

“I'm good,” Sammy said as Dean helped him to his feet. He slid into the passenger side after Dean opened the door for him, and winced when he slammed it shut.

Dean spent a moment leaning against the roof, his head in his hands. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he pushed away from the Impala and dropped himself into the driver's seat. Sam was already asleep in his seat. Cas was passed out in the back. Crowley was... god knew how Crowley was doing, and Dean couldn't exactly bring himself to care at the moment. He had his family to take care of.

He threw the car into gear and ran from the church. It was the only way to put it. They were beating a strategic retreat, to regroup and figure out what the hell was going on. Back to the bunker it was.

The radio remained quiet. Dean's body was strung tight, listening for every shallow breath Sam and Cas took, making sure they were alive. Breathing.

“What _happened_ , Dean? Everything lit up like the Fourth of July and the siren went off!”

The first thing out of Kevin's mouth when Dean shouldered the door open, burdened with Cas' heavy ass. Kevin took a frightened step backwards to give him room, and then, using that advanced placement brain of his, went to help Sam out of the car.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Dean saw Kevin struggling under Sam's bulk, guiding him to one of the bedrooms in the bunker. Dean nudged open the door to his own room and laid Cas across the covers of his bed. Cas had long ago slipped unconscious, but he still shivered minutely. After stripping Cas of his overcoat, Dean swaddled him in a cotton blanket, washed and pressed after the last time Cas had stayed, covered in blood and barely alive.

“I wish you would listen to me, you stupid son of a bitch,” Dean said, pressing a hand to Cas' forehead.

No response.

Dean stood and quietly closed the door behind him. It felt like his skin was crawling. He had to do something. He couldn't just sit here.

“Sam's, um, sleeping.” Kevin stood at the end of the hall, shifting from foot to foot.

Dean pushed himself away from the wall. “Can you cook, kid?”

Kevin grimaced. “I eat hot dogs cold.”

“That's disgusting. Come on. Let's rustle up some grub.” Dean strode towards him and clapped him on the shoulder a bit too hard. Kevin stumbled, but followed Dean into the modest kitchen.

“Wow,” Kevin said, riveted to the doorway. “This is-”

“What?” Dean tensed. “Cooking is not a chick thing, okay? Loads of chefs-”

“No, no. Not that.” Kevin gave him The Look. That was Sammy's Look. Damn it. “I just thought you'd be the sort of people who stocked their pantry with kegs of salt and ramen.”

“Man's gotta eat food, Kevin. Real food.” Dean tossed Kevin the frilly pink apron Sammy had purchased on a whim at the dollar store for Dean. Kevin stared at it in trepidation. “Go on then.”

“Jerk.” Kevin grunted, but slipped the neck over his head and cinched the ties.

“Don't smile. You'll look like something out of a shojo magazine.” Dean couldn't help the smirk.

“Out of a what?” Kevin asked, pursing his lips.

“Never mind,” Dean said. He moved to the fridge and yanked open the door. “Let's see what we-”

He froze. Reaching out, he carefully untwisetd the plastic bag on the second shelf in the fridge. A packet of jerky fell out, clattering to the floor, and Dean just managed to catch a copy of Busty Asian Beauties before it met a disastrous end in Sammy's juice glass. With his heart in his throat, Dean sank to a crouch and carefully freed a piece of paper wedged into the side of a carton of eggs.

_'Dean, I tried to find the pie, but the virgin taking money at the store refused to relinquish it. I hope this will suffice until a suitable pie can be obtained.'_

“Seriously, Dean?”

Kevin's unimpressed voice startled him. He crumpled the note and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans before standing. Kevin eyed the magazine with distaste. Dean felt heat creep into his cheeks.

“You realise that 'Asian' is a whole slew of cultures, right?” Kevin said pointedly. His arms were crossed over his chest. “And that by purchasing that book you're perpetuating the objectification of an entire race of peoples?”

“I didn't buy it!” Dean latched on to. His protest was loud in the following silence.

“Why was it in the fridge?” Kevin asked finally. “Surely there are better places for Sam to hide his... porn than the communal food reserve.”

“Will you stop talking about it if I give you a beer?” Dean asked. Kevin shrugged, but accepted the bottle Dean handed him of the gross hometown brand they apparently could not work through. “Looks like we're doing omelettes.”

The third omelet was frying when Dean heard a shout go up from one of the rooms. He shoved the frying pan handle at Kevin and bolted, following the echo of the sound to his room.

He opened the door to a violent crash, and was in time to see the desk lamp roll to a stop from its tumble off the table. Cas was up, out of the bed, staring at his hands in front of him.

“Cas, buddy, you in there?” Dean asked, voice soft but firm.

Cas jerked, spinning so quickly he stumbled into the chest of drawers. Dean winced as everything atop it rattled. Sliding, Cas flailed out for something to support him and backed into a corner, looking for all the world like a terrified child woken from a nightmare.

“Cas, it's me. You know me.” Dean took a cautious step towards him.

“N-No. Who are you?” Cas rasped out. “Where am I?”

“Cas, you're at the bunker. Remember? You like the bunker. It's orderly,” Dean said gently. He rounded the bed, but Cas seemed to want to press himself into the wall to try and get away. “Me'n Sammy live here. Men of Letters? Any of that ring a bell?”

Cas' desperate panting slowed, and his eyes focused, narrowing. He took in the room, and finally pierced Dean with those haunted eyes. Dean held perfectly still, unsure what would trigger Cas. “Dean?”

“Yeah, it's me, buddy. Just me,” Dean said, spreading his hands.

Reaching for him, Cas slid down the wall like his legs couldn't support him. Dean was at his side instantly, grasping his hand close and squeezing Cas' shoulder with the other. “Hey, hey. You all right?”

Cas' grip on his hand was painful, and Cas snatched Dean's collar with his free hand, tugging it roughly down.

“Ow. What the hell, Cas?” Dean tried to wriggle free, but Cas was determined.

The shirt finally tore at the collar, and Cas pulled it back to reveal the hand-print on Dean's shoulder.

This close, Dean could feel Cas' frantic breaths huffed out over his skin. He closed his eyes and leaned into Cas' space fractionally. “See? Told you.”

“You... I can't see your soul,” Cas said. “I didn't recognise you. I feel dizzy. As if one of my brothers set me in a hurricane.”

“You're not breathing right, Cas. You're not getting enough oxygen into your human brain,” Dean said, digging his fingers into Cas' shoulder. He touched their joined hands to his chest. “Breathe with me.”

Cas' shaking stopped as he synced his breaths with Dean's. Some of the colour returned to his cheeks, and Dean let himself relax.

“What happened?” Cas murmured into the quiet space between them.

“The angels fell. All of them. I thought you were-” Dean cut himself off. He couldn't voice it. “You came out of the forest in shock. Do you remember anything?”

“I remember Metatron betraying me,” Cas said, going hoarse. “He stole my Grace. Returned me to Earth to make babies.”

Dean drew back slightly. “Babies? Metraton expelled all of you to make babies?”

Cas stared at him, uncomprehending. “He wanted stories,” he said, wondering. As if he couldn't believe the words himself. “He wanted to hear our stories, when we return to him after a mortal death.”

“That's why he cast you out?” Dean asked. “That's bullshit-”

“No,” Cas said, firmer, more sure of himself. “He did it for revenge. For making the Father abandon Heaven.”

Dean said nothing, but shifted his hand from Cas' shoulder to cup the side of his throat. His fingers slid through short, sweat-damp hair. “You couldn't have known.”

“If I had listened to you-”

“Hey,” Dean said sharply. Cas flinched, but met his eyes. “You couldn't have known. Yeah, if you had listened to me we might have been able to stop it. But anything might have happened. I wouldn't have been able to stop Sammy.”

Cas stared at him, searching his face. He narrowed his eyes. “How do you manage?” he asked, his voice broken. “How can you survive in these- these small bodies?”

He twisted his hands free and wrung them together against his chest. His knuckles went white as he scraped welts into his skin with his fingernails.

“These fragile bodies that are so easily broken.” Red welled up along the lines.

Dean pressed against the barrier of Cas' knees and dropped a hand over Cas' twitching ones. He gripped, squeezing Cas' fingers into submission. “You can't heal those anymore,” he said quietly. “We survive in these bodies because we have to.”

“I did this. To my brothers and sisters. I forced them from their home-”

“It wasn't your doing, Cas,” Dean said. “Metatron tricked you. You can't take all of the blame. Your shoulders aren't strong enough anymore.”

He gathered Cas close, Cas' knees digging painfully into his ribs.

“I can't hear anything. I can't feel anything-”

“You can feel this,” Dean said fiercely. “Feel me, beside you. You aren't cut off, you're being exposed to an entirely new set of sensations. But you have to stay with me. Stay with me, Cas.”

“Okay.” Cas' breath shuddered out against Dean's ear. “Okay.”


End file.
